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Copyright, 1919 
Clarence B. Douglas 



DEC 29 1919 



©GIA559199 









£*3 



To R. M. McF.— 

Because you have aided the helpless, 

Because you have buried their dead, 
Because you have clothed the naked 

And those who were hungry you fed, 
Because from every angle 

You've stood four square and true— 
Because of these things, "Old Pioneer/' 

I dedicate this to you. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Page 

Christmas Morn 9 

The Criminal Convert 12 

Dreams 18 

My Shrine 21 

The Laugh of a Little Chlid 24 

Life's Ebb and Flow „ 26 

A-Boozin' With the Boys 28 

Silas Says 30 

In Bluest Eyes / 32 

At Parting » 33 

Where God Smiled 34 

I Am Tulsa 36 

Sunset at Westport 39 

Columbia, We Have Answered 41 

On to the Ehine 43 

Tulsa's Fighting Engineers 45 

There Are Others 46 

The Mind 48 

To Judge H. T 49 

The Change 51 

The Dawn 52 



AUTHOR'S NOTE 

In prowling through some family 
scrap-books, the writer selected from a 
job lot of alleged poems and prose ar- 
ticles those making up the text of this 
volume. Practically all of the verse has 
heretofore been published under the sig- 
nature of the writer in newspapers and 
magazines and will not be new to some 
of the readers. Nothing is claimed for 
the compilation except that the author 
is personally responsible for the crea- 
tion of the contents of the collection. 
He appreciates to the fullest extent 
their lack of literary merit, but has put 
them together in this form as a gift- 
book for purely private circulation 
among some of his more intimate 
friends. 

The most ambitious of the verses — 
"The Criminal Convert"— is based on an 
incident of the old Indian Territory days 
and is a part of the history of the Chick- 
asaw Nation. "Columbia, We have An- 
swered," was written on the day the 



8 A BOOK O' VERSE 

registration booths were opened for the 
selective draft and was inspired by the 
throngs of red-blooded American boys 
swarming around the booths for regis- 
tration. The concluding article — "The 
Dawn" — was written as an editorial in 
the Muskogee Daily Phoenix* of which 
the writer was then editor, and, was pub- 
lished when the law was passed creating 
a state out of Oklahoma and Indian Ter- 
ritory, and is now embalmed in the his- 
tory of the State of Oklahoma, com- 
piled by Historian Joseph B. Thoburn, 
page 886. Other articles were sug- 
gested from time to time by the trend 
of events and are put together in this 
little volume without the expectation of 
attracting especial attention. 

The selection was made with the view 
of having something along patriotic 
lines, something in dialect, nature stu- 
dies, sentiment and religious philosophy. 
With this explanation and excuse for 
perpetrating the volume on my friends 
I leave it with them, 

CLARENCE B. DOUGLAS. 



CHRISTMAS MORN 

What matter if the other days may 

come and go, 
Each bringing in its train its joy or woe ; 
This day, conceived by Deity, a child 

was born; 
This day belongs to Him, 'tis Christmas 

morn. 

What words e'er spoken 

By human tongue 

Bring rushing to the brain of man 

Such hallowed and such cherished recol- 
lections ? 

What words so cause the mind 

World wearied though it be, 

To quicken with the flood of memory 

And leaping the gulf of time 

Flow back to those sweet sainted days 
of yore. 

What images of all that's noblest and 

best 
Of all most holy and most sacred 
Are conjured up, 
As if by magic, heaven sent, 



10 A BOOK O' VERSE 

What thoughts of home 
And all a home can mean 
To childish innocence and purity- 
Come trooping down the corridors of 

time 
From out the dim and mouldy past. 
It matters not 

If hut or hovel bore the title home. 
It matters not 

If princely palace was the place. 
It matters not 

If wealth was lavish in its gifts, 
Or poverty was pinching with its pain, 
The elements of happiness were there 
On Christmas morn. 

As beacon lights adown life's pathway 

Succeeding morns like this 

Have spent in radiant splendor, 

Chaining with annual links of love 

The present to the days of long ago. 

On this day, God given to the Son of 
Man, 

The eye glistens with a new-found flash. 

Lips curve into heartfelt wishes 

For universal happiness 

And mingle their music with the child- 
ish laugh. 

Remorseless kings of care, 



CHRISTMAS MORN 11 

Of worry, disappointment and discon- 
tent, 
Are this day dethroned 
And in their place 
In each true heart erected is 
A shrine of peace on earth, 
Good will to all. 

The wolves of malice, hatred and envy 
Are driven back into their lair. 
Their snarls are hushed by songs 
Of love, of peace and of affection, 
Around all, above all, permeating all, 
On this day ascend 
To God's own home. 
Paens tuned to that heavenly hymn 
Which first heard in Bethlehem 
Have for more than twenty centuries 
Been the first and last lullaby 
Listened to by all that's best 
That's lived and died 
Since dawn of time. 

What matter, then, if other days may 

come and go, 
Each bringing in its train its joys or 

woe? 

This day, conceived by Deity, a child 
was born; 

The day belongs to Him, 'tis Christmas 
morn. 



THE CRIMINAL CONVERT 

There were ninety men in the sultry den 

And never a man was free 
As the night came down like a darken- 
ing crown 

And the storm king laughed with glee. 
The Creek was there with his raven hair 

And the Seminole so brave 
The bold Choctaw and the Chickasaw 

Were there in the living grave. 

And the Cherokee from his smoked 
tepee 
With eyes of the fiercest glow 
Would share his bed and divide his bread 

With a son of Mexico. 
And the black and white of equal might 

Was herded there nor free, 
And the night came down like a dismal 
gown 
While the storm king howled with 
glee. 

The silent guard 'bove the prison yard 
Kept watch through the thick'ning 
gloom 



A CRIMINAL CONVERT 13 

In the tempest's splash and the light- 
ning's flash 
And the thunder's crash and boom. 
While above the din in the den of sin 

Like a call from a distant shore 
Came the Parson's voice bidding all re- 
joice 
Tonight and forever more. 

I am going to preach and I'll tiy to teach 

To the ninety men in here 
Of the words of love from the throne 
above 

(And his tones were loud and clear). 
I preach to you of a Savior true 

In a happy home on high, 
Where the angels dwell, all saved from 
hell, 

And the righteous never die. 

In my humble way I'm going to pray 

To the Lord of Nazarene, 
Your souls to save from a sinful grave, 
f To wash you white and clean, 
I'm going to pray in my humble way 

A pardon for every sin, 
And by His grace, ere I leave this place, 

I hope some soul to win. 



14 A BOOK 0' VERSE 

And he prayed a prayer in the prison 
there, 
As the ninety bowed their heads 
The bold Choctaw and the Chickasaw, 

The whites, the blacks, the reds, 
And the night was down like a leaden 
crown 
And the storm king howled with glee 
While the Parson raised his voice and 
praised 
The King of Calvary. 

He prayed for the chief with his unbe- 
lief, 

For the black highwayman bold, 
For the robber, too, and his bandit crew, 

For the criminals, young and old ; 
For those who kill with a wanton will, 

For those who steal by night, 
For those who rape their lust to sate, 

For the drunken ones who fight. 

Oh, Father above, look down in love 

On the ninety wretches here, 
And may Thy grace, e'en in this place, 

O'erwhelm their hearts with fear 
And make them see it is only Thee 

Can save their souls from hell. 
Can wash their stain with Thy holy rain 

And make them clean and well. 



A CRIMINAL CONVERT 15 

Oh, make them see it is only Thee 

Can bring them safely through. 
Show them the way to eternal day, 

To a better life and true. 
Make them repent of the years misspent 

And shield them with Thy love. 
Oh, save each soul from the awful goal. 

Hear thou me, God above. 

Then he sang a hymn in the prison grim 

He sang, "Turn, Sinners, Turn." 
It's not too late to reach God's gate 

While the lamp holds out to burn. 
He'll welcome you with a welcome true, 

The vilest here may come. 
Oh, go with me to the Calvary, 

To my Savior's heavenly home. 

Repent ye all, hear the Savior's call. 

He's bidding you return, 
And while I stand give me your hand 

And the blessed lesson learn. 
Leave sin behind and glory find. 

Tonight is the time to start. 
There is no fear when the Lord is near; 

He strengthens every heart. 

Then from his bed, 'tween the black and 
red, 
Uprose an outlaw bold, 



16 A BOOK O' VERSE 

With trembling step to the Parson crept, 

All shivering as with cold, 
And a vicious flash of the lightning's 
crash 

Showed his features pale and stern, 
As he bowed his head and slowly said, 

"I am resolved to turn." 

"If I was free tonight," said he, 

"Fd go to the little mound 
Where sleeps my child in the mountain 
wild 
With the fern leaves all around, 
And bow my head o'er my loved one 
dead 
And ask of the God on high 
My soul to save from a crime-stained 
grave, 
In the happy bye and bye. 

"By that sacred sod Fd pray to God 

To forgive my every sin. 
I am ready now to take the vow 

And another life begin. 
In the sight of all on the Lord I call 

To wash my garments white. 
With the cleansing blood of the crim- 
son flood 

I'll be baptized this night." 



A CRIMINAL CONVERT 17 

In the lightning's glare of the prison 
there 

All the eighty-nine stood up 
And the Parson said, as upon his head 

He poured from an old tin cup, 
"I baptize the with the Trinity, 

With the Holy Ghost and Son, 
In the name and love of God above, 

And may their will be done." 

And it seemed to me no one shall see 

A scene so wierd, so grand, 
As the white and red on their blanket 
bed 

'Round the Christian one did stand, 
And the black man, too, and the bandit 
crew 

Looked on as the Parson cried, 
"A soul is saved and the devil braved 

By the little child that died." 

Then stillness came and the storm and 
rain 
Passed on with the sighing wind. 
The moon shone bright through a star- 
lit night 
And the world seemed good and kind, 
While the night came down like a sil- 
very crown 
And a promise gave to all, 
For the ninety men in the marshal's den 
Heard only the Savior's call. 



18 A BOOK 0' VERSE 



DREAMS 

The dreams that we dreamed in child- 
hood, 

In the dawn of our day of life, 
As we played in the flowery wildwood 

Away from the world of strif e — 
Oh, these were the dreams of fairies 

Of heavenly joy and love, 
That come and go in the dusk light's 
glow, 

As sent from the throne above. 
We dream of a loving mother, 

Of the warm, red lips we kiss, 
Caresses which almost smother 

In ecstacy's sacred bliss, 
Of loving songs so tender 

In tones so sweet and low, 
The evening hymn as the day grows 
dim, 

'Tis the dream of the long ago. 

And then as the sun grows brighter 
In the day of the passing years, 

And the fleeting hours seem lighter, 
For our first love's hope and fears, 



DREAMS 10 

We dream of the blue eyes tender, 

Of the cheeks with the peach blown 
hue, 
Of the shady nook and the blushing look 

Of the maiden sweet and true. 
We dream of the stolen meetings, 

The clasp of the fluttering hand, 
Of the summer evening's greetings, 

Of curls like a golden strand; 
Of notes with their folded corners, 

Of the moonlight and the rose; 
And these, it seems, are the sweetest 
dreams 

That a fleeting life e'er knows. 

The dreams that we dream in manhood, 

In the whirl of a busy life, 
When the cup seems filled with worm- 
wood, 

When trouble and sin are rife; 
Oh, these are the dreams of sorrow, 

Of misery, pain and death; 
And welcome the coming morrow 

And hail to the shortening breath, 
We dream of the cares and worry 

Of the battle day by day; 
Of the sickening haste and hurry; 

Of the debts we can never pay ; 
Of ruin so swift and certain; 

Of poverty's keenest sting; 



20 A BOOK O' VERSE 

Of the rushing wave and a nameless 
grave, 
And the dream is a hideous thing. 

The dreams that come in the twilight 

As the sun of life goes down, 
When the only light is the skylight, 

And the west is a burnished brown, 
Oh, these are the dreams of sages, 

The dreams of a home on high, 
Of the races run and the prizes won 

And the life in the bye and bye. 
We dream of the heaven's glory, 

Of a love that never dies, 
Of the Son of God's life story, 

Of She with the weeping eyes, 
Of joy with the singing angels, 

Where all is peace and rest, 
And these we know as they come and go, 

Of our dreams are best. 



MY SHRINE 

In southern lands where dwell the sav- 
age nations, 
Where superstition rules and holds 
full sway, 
Where gods and devils all of man's cre- 
ation 
Reign absolute to whom the natives 
pray, 
The fiercest there will bow in supplica- 
tion 
To images of wood, of stone or clod, 
And they alone feel worthy of salvation, 
Invoking blessings of their favorite 
god. 

Where shines the midnight sun in faded 
glory, 

Where chilling shrieks the wind from 
off the floes, 
Where icy peaks seem battling grim and 
hoary, 
With nature's forces 'mid the Eternal 
snows, 
There, far from all that makes life worth 
the living, 



22 



A BOOK 0' VERSE 



Where foot of civilization ne'er has 
trod, 
Are countless ones to graven ivory giv- 
ing 

That worship Christians ever give to 
God. 

To bow in fevered prayer before some 
altar, 
To kneel with all that's best beneath 
some shrine, 
And thus to strengthen when we seem 
to falter, 
With aid from supernatural source di- 
vine, 
Has ever been throughout the countless 
ages, 
With every race since dawn of time 
the way, 
The youth, the man, the prophets and 
the sages, 
Of every land to deities must pray. 



So like all else that hath a spirit given, 
I worship where to me seems best of 
all, 

A happy home, to me my only Heaven, 
A childish laugh to me an angel call, 

A loving wife, my only inspiration, 



MY SHRINE 23 

The loved ones growing 'neath my 

vine and tree, 
With these for creeds, for shrine and for 

salvation, 
I'll meet the end, whatever it may be. 




THE LAUGH OF A LITTLE CHILD 

The song bird's note in the forest green 

Seems touched by a wand divine, 
The melody pure from the Woodland 
Queen 

With chords of my heart entwine, 
And the music heard by the murmuring 
sea, 

Of the Song King free and wild, 
Is sweet to my ear, but I'd rather hear 

The laugh of a little child. 

The laugh that comes with a burst of 
joy 
From the lips that ever smiled; 
'Tis the sweetest tone I have ever 
known, 
The laugh of a little child. 

The golden harp and its quivering 

strings 

With harmony fills the air, 
And back to my memory quickly brings 

The scenes that were bright and fair. 



THE LAUGH OF A LITTLE CHILD 25 

The old love song that a maiden sang, 
With a voice so low and mild 

Was sweet to my ear, but I'd rather 
hear 
The laugh of a little child. 

The laugh that flows like a limpid 
stream, 

From lips that are undefiled; 
'Tis the sweetest tone I have ever known 

The laugh of a little child. 

And when in the evening of my life, 

I know that the end is near; 
The end of pleasure, joy or strife, 

The end of hope or fear, 
Where'er I be, on land or sea, 

To the fates I am reconciled, 
If somewhere near I can only hear 

The laugh of a little child. 

The laugh that seems like an angel song, 
From a soul that is undefiled; 

Tis the sweetest tone I have ever known, 
The laugh of a little child. 



LIFE'S EBB AND FLOW 

The lives of men like the restless tide 
Must ebb and flow as the fates decree, 
Some sink engulfed by the human sea, 
Some high on the rolling crest will bide. 

When the tide is full you need no friend 
To ride on the silvery bright sea wave, 
No need of a helping hand to save — 
Life's pleasures seem to have no end. 

Your ship will sail through the waters 

deep 
To the harbor of hope on the golden 

shore, 
Away from the breakers' sullen roar, 
And a sharp lookout your crew will keep. 

But changed is all when the ebbing tide 
Flows out and the sea is lashed to foam, 
And want and misery's hollow moan 
With gaunt despair stalks side by side. 

Then the reefs of the troubled sea of life 
All strewn with wrecks of young and 
old 



THE EBB AND FLOW 



27 



Show grim, and the heart is numb and 

cold 
With its ceaseless pain and deadly strife. 

God pity the wrecks along the beach, 
And save from the treacherous under- 
tow 
Their souls as they waver to and fro 
Between Thy love and the Demon's 
reach. 




***«r! 



A-BOOZIN' WITH THE BOYS 

I don't see how a feller can be always 

satisfied 
To leave his lonesome wife a-settin' by 

the fireside, 
A-waitin' f er his comin' and afeard of 

every noise, 
And him up town carousin' 'round, 

a-boozin' with the boys. 
It seems to me I'd rather be a-settin 

'round the fire, 
Whar I could hear the young uns cheer 

with all their hearts' desire; 
A-watchin' of them playin' on the car- 
pet with their toys; 
I'd rather be a-doin this than boozin' 

with the boys. 

I don't see how a feller can fergit the 

ones who wait 
And watch the winder till the day has 

darkened into night; 
Or how he can forgit that, tho' the hour 

is growing late, 



A-BOOZIN' WITH THE BOYS 29 

The ones at home still love him, tho' he's 

doin' what ain't right. 
And when the time has come to put the 

little uns to bed, 
When all their romps are over and their 

evenin' prayers are said, 
It seems to me I'd rather be a witness 

to such joys 
Than up in town, carousin' 'round, 

a-boozin' with the boys. 

I don't see how a feller can fergit the 

other days, 
When first he wooed and won her who is 

now his wedded wife; 
When all he could remember was her 

fascinatin' ways, 
And every smile she gave him was a 

sunbeam in his life; 
It seems to me 'twould better be to think 

of such as this, 
And every day to pave her way to pleas- 
ure with a kiss, 
And when we could we always should 

keep ad din' to her joys. 
And let some other feller go out boozin' 

with the boys. 



SILAS SAYS 

I was to an evenin' party not so very 

long ago, 
VVhar the talent, wit and beauty seemed 

to be out fer a show. 
And the people of society war in their 

elemint 
When the folks thar got to talkin' 'bout 

marriage sentiment. 
A woman as was leader of the set in up- 
per ten 
Spoke of wives a lovin' husbands and of 

husbands lovin' them, 
And she ridiculed the idea, just as 

though it couldn't be, 
Savin' love whar folks war married was 

to hear of, not to see. 

She spoke of Abner Jinkins, who, as 

everybody knows, 
Is kind to all his neighbors and forgivin' 

to his foes; 
And she said she thought him silly, 

couldn't see to save her life 
How a man could be so simple as to say 

he loved his wife. 

Course the crowd all jined in with her, 
and they ridiculed that man, 



SILAS SAYS 31 

Saying he was soft and foolish, talkin' 

as such people can, 
And the words they used were bitter, 

and they cut me like a knife, 
When they spoke with scorn about him 

jest because he loved his wife. 

I went home and got to thinkm' 'bout 

the words as they had used, 
And I wondered how it feels to have a 

heart so torn and bruished 
That it never feels the passion that 

brings happiness to life, 
And makes a home a Heaven, whar a 

husband loves his wife. 

Not accordin' to our nature is it for us 

so to speak, 
And our herts must first be darkened 

by some cursed unlucky streak, 
And our lives must be embittered by the 

sin of wordly strife, 
Tore we say in public places that no 

man should love his wife. 

For myself thar's no such pleasure as 
a lovin' woman brings. 

The home of priceless treasure is whar 
love and Cupid sings, 

And I guess I'll quit society and spend 
my future life, 

Whar a man is true to nature, and a hus- 
band loves his wife. 



IN BLUEST EYES 

Thine eyes were the first to tell to me 
The story that thy lips ne'er spoke ; 

And in their bluest depths I see 

The smouldering flame but now awoke 

Thine eyes were first to tell to me 
The secret that thy lips concealed, 

And from thy soul I seemed to see 
The faintest glimpse of love revealed. 

Thine every word so well controlled 
No tender passion e'er implies, 

Yet, when I tell the story old, 

The answer comes from out thine eyes 

There, in the beacons of thy heart, 
Untrained in language to deceive, 

I see thee as thou really art; 
I see the lovelight and believe. 

And though thy lips shall e'er say — no, 
And all thy form the truth deny, 

Still, thou and I will ever know 
The secret told me in thine eyes. 

And when the time shall come to leave 
When we have said the last good-byes, 

Into my life with love I'll weave 
The story of thy tell-tale eye r 



AT PARTING 

I soon shall say good-bye, perhaps fare- 
well ; 

Soon look, perchance, the last time in 
thine eyes — 

Thine azure eyes wherein thy secrets 
dwell — 

And see thy soul, and all that in it lies. 

And as I look I hope I there may see 
A tender light they once before have 

shown — 
A light of joy — and may it ever be 
A gleam of love for me, for me alone. 

I do not care if this be right or wrong; 
I do not care if it be good or bad ; 
I do not care if it be weak or strong; 
I do not care if it be sane or mad. 

I only know I wish it from my heart; 

I only know in this I am sincere, 

That when the moment comes for us to 

part 
Thy soul at last shall speak, and mine 

shall hear. 



WHERE GOD SMILED 

Did you ever hear the call of the wild, 
As you pegged away at the daily grind 
With a heavy heart and a weary mind, 
Your nerves strung up like a frightened 

child- 
Did you ever hear the call of the wild? 

Did you ever hear the call of the stream 
As you worked along in a ceaseless 

strain, 
With muscles taut and a fagged-out 
brain 
When life was a restless waking 

dream — 
Did you ever hear the call of the stream ? 

Did you ever hear the call of the hills, 
When the sun beat down and your 

pulses throbbed, 
And you knew your youth was being 
robbed 
By the city's hum and its vice and ills — 
Did you ever hear the call of the hills ? 



WHERE GOD SMILED 35 

Did you ever hear the call of the trees, 
And the cry of the loon along the 

creek, 
The bark of the squirrel and the 
whirring shriek 
Of the quail and the murm'ring autumn 

leaves — 
Did you ever hear the call of the trees ? 

All these I heard — and they called my 
name 
Thru the sun-baked streets and the 

city's blare, 
Mid the roar and rush of its stifling 
air — 
Go where I would, it was all the same; 
I heard these calls, and in answer came ! 

And here in the heart of nature wild 
Is peace, content and joy and rest 
And all that goes to make life blessed, 
And over it all it seems God smiled, 
Anr made me again a laughing child. 



I AM TULSA 

I am Tulsa, 

The city with a history, 
The city with a vision, 
And looking back along the yesterdays 
I smile with pride for things accom- 
plished. 
The future I look into with fearless eye, 
Content and confident, 
For I am Tulsa, the unafraid. 

I am Tulsa, 

The patriotic city, 

And ten thousand of my own 

Red-blooded men 

Have heard the nation's call, 

Have heard and answered. 

On all the Seven Seas, 

Across No Man's Land 

In Belgium, Italy and France 

Are those who call me home, 

And calling thus will soon return 

To Tulsa. 

I am Tulsa 

And, where'er my sons may wander 



I AM TULSA 37 

There is my name spoken, 

And in pride they say it 

As no other name is said. 

And back to me not only 

Will they come 

When comes the righteous peace, 

But each with him 

Will bring another man to 

Know and love his Tulsa. 

I am Tulsa, 

The mighty melting pot, 
Where fused and blended 
Are the Nation's best, 
And where Aladdin's lamp 
Has been outshone in splendor. 
I am the home of culture, 
Wealth and pleasure, 
Of homes content and happy, 
Of peace, prosperity, energy and ambi- 
tion. 
And to the cold, 
The naked and the hungry, 
Where'er the God of War 
Holds sway, I give and give 
And give again, for 
I am generous Tulsa. 

I am Tulsa. 

My schools and churches 



38 A BOOK 0' VERSE 

Are my pride and joy. 
To make every male 
And female child 
A noble man and woman, 
That is my aim 
And my ambition, 
And ever I aim true 
And do these things 
I seek to do, 
For I am Tulsa. 

I am Tulsa, 

The home of pioneer 

And tenderfoot, 

The Nation's mighty midway. 

And here shall meet, shall 

Mingle and shall mate 

The Nation's best of 

All that's best, 

And o'er and o'er decades to come 

My name shall be 

On every tongue 

And poet's pen 

Be made to sing 

The fame of unmatched Tulsa. 



SUNSET AT WESTPORT 

The sun sinks down mid a spray of gold, 

In its glittering bed 'neath the ocean 
deep; 
And the life of another day is told, 

The life of all who sing or weep. 
As the glimmering rays cross the wa- 
ter's gleam, 

Sparkle and glow, then slowly die, 
The sad sea waves to the twilight seem 

To murmur a fond farewell good-bye. 

The evening's light with a darkening 
shade 
Flits over the water's golden hue, 
And a bridal couch for the sun is made 
In the distant depths of the ocean's 
blue. 
The silvery moon from the eastland's 
glow, 
The twinkling stars shine pure and 
bright, 
Through the fleecy clouds that come 
and go, 
And bathe the earth in their mellow 
light. 



40 A BOOK 0' VERSE 

The song bird's note is hushed and still, 
The moaning sea sings a sad farewell, 
The towering pines on the rock-ribbed 
hill 
Nod a last goodnight to the flowery 
dell; 
Then the day is gone and the night is 
here 
With its rest from toil, with its slum- 
ber hour, 
And the heavens above seem doubly 
near 
As the night comes on in its mystic 
power. 




COLUMBIA, WE HAVE ANSWERED 

I. 

We have heard your call, Columbia; 

We have answered in our might 
With ten million saying, "Present," 

Lined up ready for the fight. 
From the mills and mines we answered, 

From the office, farm and banks, 
We're ten million strong, Columbia, 

And we're ready for the ranks. 

II. 
We have heard your call, Columbia, 

And we come ten million strong; 
We are girded for the battle 

For the right against the wrong! 
We will cross the seas, Columbia; 

We will reach the Kaiser's lair, 
And the Huns will feel the thunder 

Of our guns, when we are there! 

in. 

We have heard your call, Columbia, 
And with steel and shot and shell 

We will sweep the German trenches 
Til the yawning gates of hell 



42 A BOOK 0' VERSE 

Have received their own, Columbia — 
Kaiser, Prince and Hussar, too, 

Then the world will bow, Columbia, 
In a prayer of thanks to you. 

IV. 

When comes peace to thee, Columbia — 

Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men — 
And the world shall be rebuilded, 

We'll come home to thee; and then 
You shall tell in song and story 

How we heard, ten millions strong, 
How we answered, how we battled; 

How avenged the German wrong! 

V. 

We'll come back to thee, Columbia, 

Back to home and fireside; 
We'll come back to thee, the living — 

Leaving those who there have died. 
And the memory of the fallen 

Will be blessed with smiling tears, 
And the world be saved> Columbia, 

Throughout all the coming years. 



ON THE RHINE 

There's a new battle cry in the trenches, 

There's a new flag afloat o'er the line, 

And the hoarse cannon's roar is calling 

for more, 

Till Pershing shall give us the sign; 

And then with the new flag to lead us 

And our new battle star all ashine, 
We will strangle the Hun till the vic- 
tory's won, 
When Pershing says, "On to the 
Rhine." 

CHORUS 

So aloft with the Star-Spangled Banner, 
Shout the new battle cry down the 
line, 
And the Huns in retreat we will crush in 
defeat, 
When Pershing says, "On to the 
Rhine." 

There's a new army now on the ocean, 
There's a new army, too, in the sky. 
They're headed for France with their 
rifle and lance, 



44 A BOOK 0' VERSE 

All ready to fight and to die; 
And under the folds of Old Glory, 

We'll battle with courage divine — 
We'll fight and we'll win to the gates of 
Berlin, 
When Pershing says, "On to the 
Rhine. ,, 

CHORUS 

Then up with the Star-Spangled Banner, 

Send the new battle cry down the line, 

For we'll crush in defeat all the Huns 

we may meet, 

When Pershing says, "On to the 

Rhine." 




JBBTHBRi 




TULSA'S FIGHTING ENGINEERS 

Came ye home again to Tulsa 

From the battlefields afar, 
Came ye home again to loved ones 

From the blood-stained land of war, 
And our anxious days are over 

As we cheer you through our tears. 
Welcome home again, thrice welcome, 

Tulsa's noble Engineers. 

Came ye home again to Tulsa 

From the scream of shot and shell, 
Where the Kaiser and his minions 

Made the world a blazing hell. 
Where ye held aloft the banner 

Of Columbia's hopes and fears, 
Where ye added to its glory, 

Tulsa's soldier Engineers. 

Came ye home again our heroes 

From the carnage o'er the sea, 
Bringing back a nation's homage 

And your flag of Victory; 
And we meet ye and we greet ye 

With a swelling heart and cheers, 
May God bless and keep ye always, 

Tulsa's fighting Engineers. 



THERE ARE OTHERS 

If fortune smiles upon you and all is go- 
ing well 

And you have a nice deposit in the bank, 

Don't look with scorn around you and 
allow your head to swell, 

For "you're not the only turtle in the 
tank." 

If the present holds no sadness and the 
future, too, looks bright, 

Your many friends have wealth and so- 
cial rank, 

Don't dissipate the gladness with a deed 
that is not right, 

For "you're not the only turtle in the 
tank." 

When existence seems completed, from 

the loving cup you quaff 
Life's elixir — sweetest nectar ever 

drank — 
'Tis not best to get conceited and at 

misfortune laugh, 
For "you're not the only turtle in the 

tank." 



THERE ARE OTHERS 47 

It may be on the morrow when the 

wheel of fortune turns, 
Your happy life will be a dreary blank; 
Your joys have turned to sorrow with a 

misery that burns, 
Still "you're not the only turtle in the 

tank." 

Let us try to help each other as we 
journey through this life, 

And when we near the river's mystic 
bank 

Try our selfishness to smother, put 
aside all petty strife, 

For we all alike "are turtles in the tank." 

In the end we all are equal, when we're 

laid away to rest — 
The millionaire, the pauper and the 

crank. 
A little mound's the sequel of the vilest 

and the best ; 
Death claims alike all "turtles in the 

tank." 



THE MIND 

What though you imprison my body, 

The flesh and the blood and the bone, 
In dungeons, and wrack it and tear it 

And grind it on grating and stone, 
And scar it with curses and lashes, 

Then seek some new torture to find, 
I'll laugh at my own crimson splashes, 

For you cannot imprison my mind. 

My body may go where you send it 

And wither and rot and decay 
'Mong the scum of the earth who are 
sentenced 

For life — be it years or a day. 
All accursed in the chains you may rivet, 

E'en there will be the fates yet be 
kind. 
My thoughts are my life as I live it, 

And you cannot imprison my mind. 



TO JUDGE H. T. 

Snow-crowned, as firm as rugged moun- 
tains are, 
With scales of justice balanced to de- 
cide, 
No eloquence of "Orator at Bar" 
Can make the wrong the right to 
override. 
You there with knowledge ruling in your 
brain, 
On judgment sit for pauper and for 
peer, 
The fountains of the source of law to 
drain, 
Then render justice, tinctured not 
with fear. 

Could others, who will follow in your 
way, 
Be made to know what animates your 
heart, 
Dawn then would come for that oft- 
hoped for day 
When prejudice from justice will de- 
part. 



50 A BOOK 0' VERSE 

The law will be respected, and the bench 
Attain the place designed in days of 
old, 
Freed from contamination and the 
stench 

Of judgments purchased with unholy 
gold. 

Long may you live and long the ermine 
wear; 
Long may you hold the scales of Jus- 
tice blind; 
Long may you be in envy's fiercest 
glare, 
JUST as you are, and fearless, true 
and kind. 
Then, when the summons comes for you 
to go 
To join the shades of Blackstone and 
of Kent, 
Your name will live and with the ages 
grow, 

For you, as they indeed, are Heaven- 
sent. 



THE CHANGE 

The skies will not always be cloudy, 
The rain cannot fall all the time, 

The dull leaden gray of the long gloomy 
day 

Must make way after while for sunshine 

The coal moaning winds of the Winter, 
The frost and the ice and the snow 

Will leave afterwhile and the Spring- 
time's glad smile 
Blot out all the chill with its glow. 

Then the roses will bloom in their beauty 
And the daisies peep forth in the dell, 
And the violets blue in their silken dress 
new 
Deck the homes where our loving ones 
dwell. 
The air will be filled with sweet music, 
The murmuring breath of the breeze 
Will sing a love song of a love that is 
strong, 
Of happiness, joy and of ease. 



THE DAWN 

November 16, 1907 

There is a new light in the east. The 
brightest day in all the history of the 
Red Man's land has dawned. From out 
the skies of the receding night a band of 
hardy pioneers, builders of an empire, 
have plucked the brightest star and 
with brave hands and patriotic hearts, 
pinned it to the azure field of Old Glory, 
adding a new lustre to the Nation's flag. 

In imperishable letters a new name 
has been inscribed upon the banner of 
freedom — a name synonymous with suc- 
cess, with beauty, grandeur, patriotism, 
fidelity, prosperity, loyalty and love of 
home; a name crooned as a lullaby in 
bygone days when, sitting in the twi- 
light of the boundless prairies, the In- 
dian mother from her tepee watched 
the shadows lengthen into night and put 
her little ones to sleep; a name inter- 
woven in the matchless history of mar- 
velous things accomplished by those 
who dared to put their blood and brain 



THE DAWN 53 

and brawn into the contest and win a 
victory where defeat seemed most cer- 
tain ; a name now heard along the arter- 
ies of commerce, in the busy marts of 
trade and wherever beats the Nation's 
throbbing heart of industry: OKLA- 
HOMA. 

But, yesterday, we were a million and 
a half of political orphans, misunder- 
stood, misgoverned and mistreated. To- 
day we stand erect, clothed with the 
full panoply of American citizenship, in 
all things the equal in fact as well as in 
name, of the proudest people of the Na- 
tion. But yesterday, to all the other 
state we were strangers. Today we 
have entered into our inheritance and 
wear upon our brow the full-flowered 
wreath of American manhood and take 
our place in Columbia's household as 
the most favored of all of the Nation's 
children. But yesterday, the long- 
range government by appointment, by 
telegraph and by misinformation was 
the rule. Today we begin a new era with 
the ideal government of the immortal 
Lincoln, a government of the people, for 
the people and by the people. Looking 
down the darkeneing shadows of the 
past, with its obstructions to advance- 



54 



A BOOK O' VERSE 



ment swept aside by the energy, de- 
termination and ambition of our people, 
we turn with confidence to the future, 
secure in the belief that tomorrow will 
bring to us but additional triumphs in 
life's battle. In this hour of our eman- 
cipation, when paens of joy are ascend- 
ing throughout the land, when the 
clang of the political shackles falling 
from the arms of freemen makes won- 
drous music for the patriots who fought 
in freedom's cause, it is but meet that 
we should pause and give to those who 
led the van a fervent "God bless you," 
and tell them they have builded better 
than they knew in giving to posterity 
the greatest commonwealth the Nation 
ever welcomed into the sisterhood of 
states. 




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